


let me see what nobody sees

by vaguelyfamiliar



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 NHL Season, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Very Many Feelings, betcha didn't expect to see those two tags on the same fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16606121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyfamiliar/pseuds/vaguelyfamiliar
Summary: Sid and Flower accidentally discover the thing that gets them off harder than anything else. But there’s a lot more to being seen than meets the eye.





	let me see what nobody sees

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you're reading this, then take a sincere thank-you in advance for checking it out! I wrote it for [this](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3790.html?thread=5146062) prompt, and the title is from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsEpaChZ3sM) sweet little pop song.
> 
> Now here’s an unnecessary paragraph about the intentional inaccuracies in this fic: this takes place across the 2018-19 season, some of which is in the past and some of which is in the future at this point. This means that my decisions about what the league, its standings, and its All-Star Game are going to look like in a few months will probably soon prove to be false, especially since I have Matt going to ASG in this while Sid and Flower do not. If I were betting, I’d say it’s more likely to be the exact opposite. Also, technically every team’s bye week is part of the All-Star break, but here I separate those and create a fictional bye week that occurs later in the season. Also, I slightly shorten Murr’s struggles with his concussion at the outset of this season, and adjust the dates/locations of a few real-life games; Pittsburgh’s first game against Washington this season was played in Pittsburgh, but in this ‘verse it was played in Washington.
> 
> Additionally, real-life girlfriends/wives/partners/children are removed from this work, a work of absolute fiction. If you or someone you know is heavily connected to the NHL, the Pittsburgh Penguins, or the Vegas Golden Knights, do not read or share this page.

Getting fucked is such meticulous pleasure. It’s Sid’s favorite kind. It can be earth-shattering and awe-inspiring if you do it right, a good kind of challenge to go over that edge. But usually if he’s going to get there at all, he needs to be with someone who can take him. It’s a good thing that Flower can, has almost always been able to.

They learned together, when they were practically kids, early into their NHL careers. And then they stopped. And then they started. And then they stopped again. And then they stopped trying to stop, and as the years went by they grew up and found suddenly that they had words for the things they were feeling.

“I want you,” Sid says, a thirty-one year old man. Flower’s cock is teasing at his prostate, but not nailing it like Sid needs and Flower must know it.

“Marchy and Belley were fucking with my phone yesterday,” Flower starts saying. It makes no sense, it’s not relevant, but Sid has no words to call him out with anymore. He’s halfway between fuming and enraptured at the way Flower is moving his hips so slow and shallow, like he feels no urgency in getting Sid all the way off. Like they have all night for this. It’s how Flower loves to tease him, loves to upset him in just the right way, poking at Sid’s bruises so he can assess the damage and make it better.

“So?” Sid gasps out, digging his heels into the divots in Flower’s lower back. “Ah, come _on_ , Flower.”

“Hey, shh,” he says into the hinge of Sid’s jaw. “I know you take time. I’m not impatient. We gonna get there.”

Flower is right, but he’s a lot calmer about it than Sid often is. Flower’s picked up on his perpetual insecurity about being...more of a full-length symphony than a 3-minute radio hit. Sid never really had that teenage phase where you could squeeze your dick for a mere ten seconds and shoot off like a rocket. He gets worried, sometimes, that if he doesn’t hurry it up then he’ll never come.

Sid should know better after all these years, but he still shoves up to try to get Flower deeper in him, searching for both that and the friction of his cock caught up against Flower’s stomach. “Hey!” Flower reprimands him again, giving him some teeth to the neck for his trouble. But he does fuck Sid a little deeper, pressing closer. Just a little. “What, you think I’m gonna get bored? Not gonna take you there?” The head of his dick passes over Sid’s spot languidly, insistently.

Sid should know, by now, that Flower will work him all night if he needs it.

“As I was saying,” Flower continues, cool enough to furrow Sid’s eyebrows. He clenches purposefully, just to see if he can pull that noise out of Flower’s mouth, that— “ _Unh,_ fuck,” Flower grunts. Yeah, that one. “You fucker. As I was saying, they took my phone. Looked around at my pictures. I had to grab it back before they saw.”

Sid wants to ignore him and just focus on how it feels when those hips hit his ass, what it’s like to have Flower back for the first time since summer ended. But Flower will drag this out until he has the engagement he wants from Sid. “Saw what?” Sid buys in, breathier than he’d like.

Flower gives him a hand around his dick for that, and they’re getting closer now. Sid can feel something building in the pit of his stomach, like the pleasure might actually rise to a crescendo, after he’s spent so long just hearing the music.

And then— “That photo of you. The one you sent last week?”

Sid knows exactly which one he’s talking about, hadn’t even needed the specification of when he’d sent it, because Sid hardly ever sends dirty pictures. But they’d managed to beat the Caps in their first game of the season, and _God_ , it’d felt good. Taking the risk and texting Flower that picture of himself, rock hard with his leaking cockhead testing the waistband of his underwear, it’d just been self-indulgence. Or maybe self-indulgence was getting the reaction, getting the hungry call from Flower afterward.

“You saved it? They saw?” Sid demands frantically.

And he only gets halfway through his questions before Flower’s groaning, “Of course,” meaning of course he saved it, not of course they saw, he already said he took it back before they could see, but the idea, _oh_ —

It makes Sid sing.

“ _Crisse de câlisse_ , you’re coming,” Flower observes as Sid’s still seizing up and spilling hot between them, panting. There’s surprise there, but the awe in his voice is so much different than the relief Sid fears.

“Yeah, I. Yeah,” Sid rasps when he’s spent, legs uncoiling bonelessly from around Flower’s hips.

Flower runs a hand through the mess, his girth dragging at Sid’s rim as he carefully pulls out. “ _Sidney_ ,” he says as he strips the condom off probably earlier than he should if they were really being safe. Sid’s not worried because they only ever use one as a formality, for when they’ve been away from each other and neither of them has been tested in awhile. Sid’s aware of pretty much everyone Flower’s slept with since they became what they are. It’s so peculiarly sweet, the way “God, I love you,” is what Flower thinks to say while frantically jacking himself off over Sid’s abs. Sid loves him too, with everything. He drops a palm to Flower’s ass and squeezes. It’s not long before Flower is coming right where Sid did.

Flower doesn’t let his climax distract him for long, though. He gives Sid a look from where he’s hovering, braced up on his elbows. “So. This was interesting.”

“Sex is known for that,” Sid deflects. He pulls Flower all the way down onto him. It smears their come around, so they can’t stay like this much longer until the itch to clean up will overtake Sid. He’s learned to relax a little bit, though. He’s gotten better.

“I mean the way you came like a...like what is it? Like gunshot?” Flower presses, kissing Sid’s cheek and then jaw. “When I said my nosy teammates almost found your dick pics.”

Sid hums, tilts his head to find Flower’s mouth with his own. His mind is moving slowly, but even though his thoughts aren’t fully formed, he can recognize that something about the concept of being _seen_ like that doesn’t perturb him. Or it does, but in a pleasant way.

If you’d have asked him in another situation, another mood, “Hey Sid, how do you think you’d feel if someone saw your private pictures, or if someone caught you together? If someone saw you naked, hard, wanting Flower?” his answer would never have been, “Oh, aroused, for sure.” But apparently that’s the correct one. It takes Sid by surprise because that sort of thing should be horrifying for him in particular, embarrassing. Dear God, is that part of why he likes it?

“How did you know?” Sid wonders, blinking absently at the ceiling that appears from behind Flower when he collapses over to Sid’s right. “How’d you know I’d like it like that?”

“I didn't. I was just talking,” shrugs Flower. “I mean, I think it’s hot, but, ah. Also I think sometimes I forget to tell you important stuff until I’m in bed with you.”

That’s true enough. Flower had said he loved Sid for the first time in bed, years ago. He’d told Sid he was going to Vegas that way. But Flower hadn’t needed to say those things at all. Sid had already known.

They’re working on it, the communication thing. Or at least, Sid’s pretty sure they are.

“You think it’s hot?” Sid rolls over to face Flower on his side. He’s bright-eyed, watching Sid with half his face pressed into the pillow they’re sharing.

“Yeah. I mean, you keep everything so private. It’s hot to think about you letting that go. For someone to see what I can do to you.”

Well, that bears consideration. He does keep most things private. He’s well aware that it’s his defense mechanism, it’s how he protects himself. It would be scary to give that up, especially with something this intimate. But it could also be worth it. So he says, “This might be something that I could get into.”

He can practically feel Flower straighten up a bit. Sid supposes it’s not often that he wants to try something new when it comes to sex. He doesn’t have much in the way of kinks, and when he does ask for something, it’s usually something dumb. There’d been the time he asked Flower to keep just his socks on while they fucked. Flower had laughed a lot when Sid stuttered out the request, but. He’d done it.

And, “Okay, let’s do it,” Flower agrees again now. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Sid admits. “What are our options? I don’t know anything about this stuff. I don’t even know what it’s, like…called.”

“And I dunno how it’s called in English, so. We should probably do some, y’know, research and stuff. But basically we want to be seen, yeah?”

“I think so.” Sid’s spent cock gives a feeble twitch. “Yes.”

Flower props his head up on his hand. “Then we could bring someone in. To watch us.”

To _watch_. Jesus. It’s nerve-wracking, but there’s no denying that Sid wants it.

“We could ask Marchy or Belley. Team’s only in town for another day and,” Flower continues, “seem like you liked that idea when I brought up the picture.”

Sid mulls that over, but he’s hardly comfortable with either of them. Plus, there’s no chance that Marchessault would be capable of keeping his mouth shut about it afterward, or even during. Sid cringes. “Not them.” He thinks back to the photo again, though.

They’d been too loud on the phone that night he sent it. Sid had been caught up in the heat, the desperation of needing the kind of release that could only be given to him by someone thousands of miles away. After they hung up Sid was sweaty and satisfied, and he didn’t bother pulling on more than a pair of sweats before he stole out into the hall, intending to go grab an extra water bottle. But when he shut his hotel room door behind him, Murr was there, stood frozen in front of his own door opposite Sid’s. He’d been flushed and shifty, avoiding Sid’s eyes and half-turned away like he was undecided about how to stand naturally. At once, Sid was viscerally aware of how recklessly he’d been groaning Flower’s name.

There are guys on the team that know about them if they know how to read context clues, but Sid hadn’t known whether Murr was one. Regardless, if Murr hadn’t known before, he learned then.

“Oh, sorry, did you…?” Sid said, scratching his ear and feeling a hot blush rise to his cheeks. “I should probably be quieter.”

Murr had given him a grin over his shoulder, awkward but well-meaning, as he regained his composure and keyed into his room. “No, do your thing. Pretend you didn’t see me.”

Now, Sid twines a hand into Flower’s hair. It’s getting longer again. “What about Murr?” he suggests.

Flower’s eyebrows rise, but he looks pleased. “Hey, good idea. His head, though, is he still concussed? Will he be up to it? I guess he could probably use some entertainment if he can’t look at screens still.”

“The trainers say he should be back in a couple games. He skated today, at least. He’s doing alright,” Sid recounts, getting up to grab a washcloth from the bathroom. When he gets back, he scrubs himself and Flower off thoroughly. A shower would be nice, but Sid is too wiped. “I don’t know if he’ll be up to it, but if he’s not, it won’t be because of his head.”

Flower nods slowly. “Okay. We’ll ask him and find out.” He brushes a hand over Sid’s hip, then takes the rag from his grip and tosses it toward the far corner of the room, in the direction of the hamper but still missing by a mile.

“It’s gonna end up bein’ me who picks that up later,” Sid drawls, but his eyelids are getting heavier and he doesn’t want to fight them. He spoons up against Flower’s back, buries his nose in the hair at his nape, and relishes in being home.

 

\---

 

Flower swings by the Pens’ dressing room a few hours before the game. Sid had known he was going to, but he hangs back and lets the guys notice Flower’s presence all on their own. Everyone’s kind of just filtered in and they’re still settling. By the way his head perks up, Sid thinks Murr is the first to notice Flower appear.

He’s the last to approach, though. He waits long enough for the collective ruckus of the team greeting Flower to die down before he even stands up. Flower throws Sid a swift wink just before Murr gets to him.

Sid hovers closer while Murr and Flower greet each other warmly. It’s different from how Flower was welcomed by anyone else, the hair-mussing Geno had given him, the fist bump he’d exchanged with Phil. The smiles on his and Murr’s faces are heartfelt, and when they hug, it’s not the afterthought to a backslap or a handshake. It’s a real hug. Sid grins without meaning to.

For a moment, he hesitates over whether to take his usual place by Flower’s side or not. The unique relationship that Murr and Flower share is something he already knows he can never fully understand the specifics of; it’s always like that between a protégé and their mentor, no matter how evenly the playing field eventually levels out. Sid’s been on both sides of it before. “How’ve you been?” he hears Flower ask, and the way his eyes are lit up means he cares about the answer.

“Good, better,” Murr is saying when Flower catches Sid’s eye and nods to beckon him closer. Flower separates the three of them from the larger group so subtly it takes Sid a moment to even notice that no one else is within earshot. The hand he put on Murr’s arm to move him away from the bustle of the dressing room as they talked was so natural.

The way Murr opens up under Flower’s attention is easier than with Sid or any of the Pens’ other veterans. Murr had done an interview once with one of the beat reporters in which he’d implied that he didn’t hang out much with the older guys. _What do I have in common with a guy like Sid or Geno?_ he’d said. They’re team, but they’re not really friends. But Flower has always been different.

Murr is finishing telling Flower about how Rusty had doodled with a Sharpie on one of his pads yesterday as he seems to just notice that Sid’s joined them. “I’m sure Sid is keeping you updated on all that, though,” he says sheepishly in acknowledgement.

“He tries,” Flower attests. “But it’s good to hear it from you.”

Murr fiddles with his cap to hide the smile that one causes.

“Listen, we have something to ask you,” Flower goes on.

Sid gathers his breath and steps in to pick up the thread. “You could say it’s a favor, I guess. But don’t feel pressured.”

Murr nods easily and assuredly, like he’d do anything they asked, anything for a teammate. Sid wishes mildly that he’d used a word other than ‘favor’—they’re not exactly asking Murr to dogsit or water their plants while they’re out of town. This is a whole other thing, one that requires subtlety and finesse.

“We were wondering—”

“Do you wanna watch me and Sid get it on so we can explore his exhibitionism kink? You wouldn’t have to do anything, just sit there and be the audience.” Sid feels his mouth pop open a little. Flower shoots him a glance out of the corner of his eye and adds, “That’s that research talking.”

“What he means is,” Sid restarts, “You know about us.” Murr nods, and Sid tries not to think too hard about exactly why Murr knows about them. “And you’re not the only one. But we thought you might be a good, uh. Neutral observer.”

Murr’s eyebrows creep up to a peak. He opens his mouth to speak but then hesitates, and for one gut-wrenching moment Sid is sure he’s going to say no, or maybe even _hell_ no.

But somehow, impossibly, what comes out of his mouth is, “I can probably do that. If that’s something that would be…good for you guys.”

“I think it definitely will be,” Sid tells him. “But you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m down, it’s fine,” Murr confirms. “When were you guys thinking? Flower, when do you leave?”

“We only have tonight, flight is early tomorrow. So…”

“After the game?” asks Murr.

“If you’re up for it, then yeah,” Sid says.

"I'll just be sitting in the press box," he shrugs.

Flower pats his arm, some brief comfort. And then he beams. “Then it’s a date,” Flower is the one to say.

 

\---

 

Sid is the first to get to his own house, and Flower shows up shortly after. The Penguins won the game, which Sid feels good about, but now that couldn’t possibly be further from his mind. Flower finds him pacing in the kitchen. Murr will be there any minute. Any minute, he’ll pull up in Sid’s drive, headlights shining on Sid through the front windows.

“Hey,” Flower says, his tone balanced like he’s soothing a wild animal. “If you’re nervous, we can tell Matty never mind.”

“I’m a little bit nervous,” Sid admits, even though he probably doesn’t need to. “But not enough to call it off.”

Flower steps into his space, backs him up against the counter. The hand he lays on Sid’s hip is searing through his clothes, because Flower’s body is always warm. God, Sid was cold for months without him. “You want this still?” Flower checks again, voice low.

Sid looks at his face, his narrow features, beady eyes, thin lips and nose. It doesn’t look like the face of a man with shredded abs and wiry muscle everywhere, but it is. It’s the same body that had let Sid shake all the way through their first time together, the same eyes that have stayed intent on Sid for years. Ever since they’d reached the end of their teenage years and Sid had snorted water out of his nose squawking at another of Flower’s locker room pranks, and Flower had leaned in and asked, “Am I the only one can make you laugh like that?” like he was scared the answer could possibly be no.

“Mhm, still,” Sid croaks now, putting a kiss on Flower’s lips.

The sound of footsteps on hardwood floor breaks them up. “The door was open,” says Murr. It’s late, but he doesn’t look tired—he’d sat out the game. “I locked it behind me.”

“Perfect,” Flower grins, stepping back from Sid. “Let’s go upstairs?”

It’s once they’re all in Sid’s bedroom that the reality of it truly starts to seep in. They sit Murr in the cushy leather office chair that goes with the desk Sid never uses, and then there’s a whole bed for just him and Flower.

“So we just…?” Sid trails off, wiping a clammy hand on the knee of his sweatpants.

“Like usual,” Flower tells him, scooting close. Sid takes a peek at Murr, settled in the chair, face impassive. It makes heat creep up in Sid’s cheeks when Flower starts kissing him.

He wonders what they look like to Murr, if they look odd together. Flower has such narrow features, and Sid’s been told for years how big everything about him is. Maybe they’re an oxymoron.

“What do you want? I could suck you off,” Flower suggests. And he is talented at that, but now Sid is imagining it: Flower all the way down between his legs, far away, leaving him all alone in front of Murr’s eyes.

“Maybe not that,” replies Sid. Flower strips him of his shirt, and Sid hopes his flush isn’t too visible down his chest. He already feels twice as hot as normal. The feathery kisses Flower is trailing down his neck are still pretty innocent, but the way Sid is stiffening up in his pants isn’t at all. He wishes that he were bold enough to just go for it, to just have Flower fuck him dirty and nasty on all fours with Murr right there. He almost is, but not quite. “I need you with me,” Sid says, and hopes Flower understands what he means.

Flower pulls back and looks him in the eye for a moment, and then he nods. “Okay, how ‘bout this,” he turns to Murr, “will you switch with us?”

“What?” Murr asks blankly, looking as if he’s being shaken out of a dream. This has to be jarring for him, Sid knows.

Flower pats the bed next to where he’s sitting. “You, here,” he directs Murr. Then he squeezes Sid’s thigh through his sweats and says, “And you, up. Take those off.” So Sid stands up, and he takes them off.

He doesn’t quite get what Flower’s going for until Flower undresses himself and occupies Murr’s former spot in the swivel chair. He pulls Sid into his lap to face him, gets Sid’s bare legs tucked right underneath the armrests, and turns them around so the back of the chair faces Murr. It’s genius. Their cocks come up against each other like this, and Flower wraps his hand around Sid’s, but Murr won’t be able to see it all; he’ll just see Sid’s mouth dropping open, his knees trembling. He’ll just hear the faint squeak of the leather as Sid rocks desperately into Flower’s palm.

And it is desperate. “Oh, fuck,” Sid is groaning. His eyes crack open, and suddenly he’s intensely aware of Murr’s long figure, out of focus behind Flower. He’s still watching them, waiting, just like they asked. He may not be able to see Flower stroking him, and there’s no way he catches Flower rubbing a finger over Sid’s rim, just the suggestion—but he’s hearing Sid moan out the evidence of what’s being done to him. Sid’s whole body is lighting up—he has to come, Murr’s expecting him to.

And…and then he _does_. It wells up in him quickly and erupts like a volcano, forceful but drawn-out, oozing out of him and coating Flower’s stomach.

“Wow,” Sid says, catching his breath. _I think that was less than ten minutes_ , he doesn’t say. Flower is moaning into Sid’s collarbone, fisting his own dick now. Sid worms his hand down between them to roll Flower’s balls in his fingers.

Flower can’t be far behind him now, and he’s singing Sid’s praises all the way home. “This gets you so fast, huh? So hot, Sid,” he exhales. His English is starting to deteriorate until he’s leaving out letters, words. “You don’t even know, Matty. Sometime we go _hours_ , and I love…It’s like…like being in goal. All the time focusing on— _ah_ —catching one thing, because you love it.”

Flower comes all over them both, still talking to Murr. Sid clings to Flower, and doesn’t stop shaking.

They take a moment to recuperate, and in that time Sid feels a dopey, satisfied smile rise to his face. Flower breathes out a single laugh into Sid’s clavicle, where his mouth is still pressed. When he pulls back to look Sid in the eye, they’re both grinning.

Murr sits silently for awhile as they’re putting themselves back together, and maybe that’s why it’s discordant when he stands suddenly. He makes an aborted hand movement, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and goes, “Thank you,” before he walks out the door, when it’s Sid and Flower who should be thanking him.

That’s the first clue Sid misses.

 

\---

 

The season moves on, and Flower goes where the Knights go, which won’t be Pittsburgh again. The Penguins win a fair amount, but not as consistently as Sid would like. A woman at a bar in Calgary hits on him brashly, and he applauds her confidence enough to let her suck him off in the restroom, even though he hasn’t done that in years because those people usually don’t realize how long they’re going to have to be on their knees on an uncomfortable floor. It’s okay. He calls Flower up to tell him about it, but Flower has to go before he even gets around to the story.

Sid and Murr talk some. They don’t talk about what they did, because when would they have the chance? There are always other guys around. But Sid thinks about it a lot. He thinks about it in the dark of characterless hotel rooms, imagines two sets of eyes on him instead of just Flower’s one.

It’s not that Flower isn’t enough. That’s never been why they sleep with other people. There have been a lot of people Sid tried to like as much as he likes Flower. Maybe he’d be with someone else if any of them ever came even close. So that’s not why. The problem is that, as Sid contemplates it, he’s just not sure what _is_ why. He doesn’t know why he let that woman blow him in the bathroom.

But he doesn’t have the same sense of confusion about letting Murr sit on the bed and watch him and Flower love each other, somehow. That part seems like it makes sense, even if Sid couldn’t explain it in words.

So when January rolls around and the Pens come through Las Vegas, Sid already knows that he’s getting the three of them in a bedroom together as soon as possible. This time he won’t be as shy.

In the house Flower’s still settling into after over a year, Sid rides Flower in the center of his king bed, and Murr looks on from the armchair in the corner. The desert’s winter weather is more temperate than anything, and with the way Flower forgets to set his thermostat to automatic, it’s just enough to get Sid working up a sweat moving up and down on Flower’s cock. He can see Murr looking at them, and Murr can see all of him. He feels split open in more ways than one, and his orgasm is so good that he’s practically seeing double when he slips off Flower to jerk him the rest of the way off.

And then Flower’s head rolls to the side as Sid strokes him, and he asks, “Do we look good?”

It’s the first time they’ve required any sort of response from Murr, and Sid worries briefly that it’ll freak him out. But he plays along well enough. “Yeah, Flower, you do,” Murr says lowly. “Uh, you guys do.”

And this time, Sid does catch it. Flower blows his load with his eyes firmly shut, but Sid’s gaze tapers in on Murr. He’s wearing really loose shorts and his hands are clasped in his lap so it’s difficult to tell if he’s hard, but Sid thinks he might be. He leaves in a hurry when they’re done just like last time, which would suggest that he’s uncomfortable, but…he’s agreed to do this with them twice now. Why would he keep agreeing if he’s uncomfortable?

And sure, they’ve been playing it like Sid is the main event here, but he’d have to be a fool to miss who Murr’s eyes really linger on.

 

\---

 

The game is the Penguins’ last before the All-Star break. It’s not the last for the Knights, who will still have to face the Wild and the Preds at home before they get to rest, but Sid has a solid stretch of free time that he can spend hanging around Flower’s house in Vegas, there to hold him after a win or a loss for the first time in too long. So when the rest of the team heads back to Pittsburgh, Sid stays.

By some minor form of miracle, neither Sid nor Flower is playing the All-Star Game in San Jose. Sid would be, but he’s claiming minor injury, so Geno and Murr will be there this year. He refuses to feel bad, seeing as he’d done it two years in a row before now.

Sid has been in Vegas a good few days when Flower broaches the subject that had been on Sid’s brain but not his tongue. They’re in the kitchen, and Flower is pouring dry cereal clinking into a bowl when he asks, “What if we had Matty here on his way to San Jose?”

“Hmm?” Sid hums, focusing on the French nutrition label on one of Flower’s weird snacks he gets shipped in from Quebec. They look like protein bars, but Sid has the suspicion that they’re more like candy. “He was just here.”

“I know, but I was thinking maybe we have him come stay for a whole day, or something. He has to be out west in a couple days for All-Stars anyway,” Flower shrugs. “Break up the flight for him a little bit.”

Sid puts down the box and looks up. Flower mainly keeps his eyes on his bowl, but he peeks up at Sid once or twice.

Sid stares at Flower’s watch. There are a lot of answers he could give. Instead, he asks his own question. “For sex?”

“Um, yeah. Like before,” Flower says, rubbing at the small patch of hair that’s made its return to his chin again. “I think.”

Flower doesn’t sound fully sure about that. But he also doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“Sure,” says Sid. “Let’s get ‘im out here.”

It’s Flower who calls Murr up to invite him, but it’s Sid who answers the door when he arrives a day or so later. Murr seems surprised to find Sid on the other side of the door early in the morning in just his open bathrobe and boxers, but he smiles genuinely nonetheless. “Are those slippers?” he snickers at Sid’s feet.

Sid steps back to let him in. “Hey, I’m relaxing. I hear some other suckers have to go do media and an All-Star Game this weekend.”

“Fair enough. But I have twenty-four whole hours before I have to think about that.”

“It’ll be fun,” Sid assures him. “Because it’s your first, especially.”

“Is Matty here?” Flower calls from up the stairs. He appears at Sid’s back a few moments later, beaming. “Hey, we could have picked you up, you know, you didn’t have to cab. Come in, come on, put your shit down.”

“So this is your place! I saw it a little, but, you know.”

“Yeah, the backyard pool is huge, come see…”

Sid mostly tags along and watches with faint amusement as Flower gives Murr the grand tour. He tries not to laugh too loud when they get to the rooms Flower clearly uses less, like the movie theater and the game room, and it takes Flower five minutes to figure out how to turn on his air hockey table, clearly for the first time. Sid’s glad he has someone to play with, now.

Most of all, Sid watches their back-and-forth, knowing with new certainty that Murr didn’t go out of his way to come here just to do them a favor and watch them get off. And Flower didn’t invite him here for just that, whether he knows it or not yet.

They do get to the sex, eventually. While Murr watches them, Sid watches Murr too. Flower is draped over his back, pushing into him from behind and linking their fingers together where Sid clutches the sheets. Sid thinks he probably looks up at Murr too, a few times. Getting to Sid’s climax takes longer than it had the first two times, probably because Sid is so distracted by the way Murr hasn’t made eye contact with him once because that’s just not where his eyes are. But it’s always good with Flower, no matter how long it takes.

The biggest difference about this time is that Murr doesn’t have anywhere to go after they’re done. He could walk out of Flower’s bedroom and into the guest room to what, hide? But he doesn’t do that. He stays for longer while they come back to themselves, the smile on his face wan and maybe a little sad. It looks something like acceptance, some hollow closure.

Sid realizes it makes sense that Murr has some complicated feelings about Flower. Flower is the best person Sid knows, and he can see the way Murr’s eyes drink Flower in like he’ll never get any more than this, like it’s too late.

Sid isn’t Flower’s captain anymore, but he _is_ Murr’s, and Sid is a provider, a caretaker. For both of them. The instinct to fix this, to change it, itches beneath his skin.

 

\---

 

That night in bed, Sid thinks about it for a long time. About Murr in the room across the hallway, about what Murr and Flower mean to each other. About whether he feels threatened by that. About whether he and Flower could handle it. About what he and Flower even are. About whether wanting all of Flower with all of him means it should be only Flower with only Sid. It hasn’t in the past—sleeping with other people has been allowed, a necessity at times since playing in different cities. But that was always when they weren’t sleeping with each other. This would be something else entirely.

And when he lifts his head from Flower’s shoulder to look at his face, he finds that Flower’s eyes are open and he’s staring at the ceiling. They each knew the other wasn’t sleeping, but they decide at the same time to stop pretending they are.

“Sid,” Flower whispers.

“You can say it,” Sid tells him. “I love you, and you can say it.”

“I like him,” Flower spills, rubbing at the side of his face with one palm.

Sid presses his hand to Flower’s sternum. “That’s not bad.”

“No?” Flower asks like he already has an opinion. “Ever since you and me…I never cared about anyone else. I don’t think I know how. And I still don’t need anyone but you.”

“That’s bullshit, you know how to care about _everyone_ else. Not in the same way, sure, but every new guy that came through Pittsburgh loved you, every fan you ever met treasured you, every back-up goalie you’ve ever had adored you, because you care about people. And Murr is on another level, I know, but. Just because you don’t need something doesn’t mean it’s not good for you.”

There’s a long silence, and then Flower says, “Oh, jeez.” Sid thinks his eyes are shining the slightest bit wet around the corners.

“You should go in there,” Sid urges him.

“To the guest room? Right now?”

“Yes!”

“He’s probably sleeping, Sid.”

“Don’t be a chicken,” Sid thwacks his side. It reminds him of when they were much younger, annoying little kids tittering at whatever scheme Flower had cooked up to hide Army’s socks or cut up Tanger’s underwear. A lot of the time Sid was the butt of the joke too, and he always laughed just as hard when he was the target of pranks, maybe just from how good it felt to have a best friend that would pull them on him. Flower is still, first and foremost, his best friend. “Come on, you know he’s into you.”

“Wow, you’re really pushing for this now, aren’t you?” Flower teases, poking Sid hard in the belly right in the spot that’ll make him curl up by reflex.

“Yes, I’m wingmanning you into bed with Murr, let it happen!”

“Oh, would I normally kiss my wingman my like this?” And he kisses Sid wet and messy, their legs tangling further. It’s definitely a kiss that makes Sid’s dick take notice, but he nudges Flower back after a few more seconds.

“Yeah,” Sid says finally, biting down on his damp bottom lip. “If it’s me.”

“It’s all you,” Flower says, and Sid feels the same.

“So are you gonna go wake him up?”

“Uhh,” Flower lets out, high-pitched and drawn out like he does when a reporter asks a genuinely thought-provoking question. “I think no. Let him sleep, let him enjoy All-Stars. There will be another chance. Also, you’re tired, and I kind of…want you with me, when I do.”

Sid pauses. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be like that, with me and Murr.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. But I think it would make sense for me, if you were there.”

Sid doesn’t really have to think about it. “Then I will be.”

 

\---

 

So Sid comes back to Pittsburgh, and Murr comes back too after San Jose. On their next road trip, they hang around each other with a new sense of familiarity. Murr’s been part of the team for a few years, but now he’s part of _Sid’s_ team, which had previously consisted of just Sid and Flower. But Flower wants him, and what Flower wants, Sid wants.

And it’s pretty clear that what Flower wants is also what Murr wants. In retrospect, Sid can’t believe he needed Murr in the bedroom to see it. Sid drops down next to him after skate in Toronto and just barely catches him looking at a picture of Flower that was posted to the VGK Instagram. Murr scrambles to tuck his phone away when he realizes Sid is looking over his shoulder, but it’s no use. He lifts his eyes to Sid’s, caught out, but doesn’t say anything.

Sid opens his mouth, hesitating. It’s not his prerogative to tell Murr something about Flower’s feelings before Flower himself can. “It’s okay to miss him,” is what he ends up going with. “I miss him all the time too.”

“But you’re with him,” Murr points out, quiet and measured. “You’re supposed to miss him this much.”

 _You don’t have to do this to yourself_ , Sid wants to say. _You don’t have to keep agreeing to have a fraction of Flower when Flower loves with all of himself_.

“‘Supposed to’ doesn’t mean anything,” he says instead. The Penguins are supposed to win games, win Cups. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Sid is supposed to be the best player in the world. Sometimes he is, sometimes he isn’t. You’re only supposed to love one person at a time. Sometimes you do, but a lot of the time you don’t. And most people still pretend they do anyway, but Flower is far more honest and Sid is far more lucky.

Murr blinks, searching Sid’s face for a moment. Then he swallows, takes out his phone again, and looks back down.

 

\---

 

The Golden Knights have their bye week, and Flower flies out to Pittsburgh. Sid knows it’s because he’s hurting; as February drags to a close, the Knights are jostling for a wild card spot that they’re probably not going to get if their season continues the way it’s been looking. If Flower were superhuman, he’d be with the guys that stayed in Vegas, regrouping his team and buoying them to a change in momentum. Instead, he’s licking his wounds at Sid’s house. Even as a team captain, Sid doesn’t blame him. Flower can’t save the Knights. There’s not much that could reverse the discouragement of a team borne from cast-offs and displaced vets that skyrocketed to the top of the world only to lose it all, and then return with a lackluster first half of the next season.

But after two days, Sid can’t take Flower angsting around anymore. He’s cursing Barkov’s knack for scoring shorthanded for the third time when Sid asks, “Are you really this upset about losing to the Panthers, or are you stressing about something else?” He pauses, and Flower sighs. “Should I call Murr?”

If there’s anyone who can understand where Flower’s head is at, it’s Murr. The Pens are also not winning as much as they want to be; they’ll make playoffs no problem, but after that it’s anyone’s guess. Sid believes every year that they can go all the way, and they’ve done it under unlikely circumstances before. But at the same time, they’ll have their work cut out for them, which is harder still when it seems like increasingly more pucks are teleporting past Murr in the uncanniest of fashions. Like there’s nothing any of them can do to stop it.

“He, uh, knows I’m in town,” Flower says. “I gave him a call a few days ago. I thought maybe it’s time I talked to him ‘bout everything. But I wanted to settle in with you first, and see if you were feeling okay with it.”

“I am. You should invite him over,” Sid spits out before he has time to truly think it through. Because it’s possible that he’s still a little uneasy inside, but it doesn’t feel like _jealousy_ per se, it’s just different.

Flower blinks. Suddenly the whole tone of the day has flipped. “Now? Okay, uh, sure,” he agrees, and then walks off to make the call.

It’s mid-afternoon on a Wednesday. Murr could be in the middle of doing any number of things, but Sid is not surprised when Flower returns and lets him know that Murr’s on his way.

“Great,” Sid says. “We’ll just…”

“Have a threesome. After I tell this guy I have a crush on him,” Flower shrugs, naming the elephant in the room. “No big deal.”  

It works perfectly as a fissure in the tension. Sid laughs dazedly. “Are we crazy? Are we fucking insane?”

Flower takes the few steps necessary to cross the distance between them and brings his forehead to rest against Sid’s, hand coming up to cup Sid’s neck. “I dunno, I can’t say. But you know what my first priority is. I want this, but if you decide you don’t—”

“It’s not that,” Sid assures him, because that’s the only thing he’s sure of himself. “I feel more like…when I have a play and I’m pretty confident it’ll work, but I could be wrong.”

Flower takes a moment to chuckle at Sid using hockey metaphors to work through life’s obstacles, but then he squeezes high on Sid’s shoulder and goes with it. “If we don’t score, we don’t score.”

Sid huffs through his nose. “If a play doesn’t work then that could end up hurting the whole team.” He can’t ask for nothing to change, he doesn’t want to. But he does want to know that he and Flower will be okay, that they’re something permanent no matter who else is there or not there. “I guess I just want to know that we—” The driveway gate sounds in the distance, and Flower turns his head. It can only be Murr.

“That we what?” Flower asks after a beat.

“Never mind,” Sid says.

Flower opens the door for Murr this time, and Murr takes him into his arms in a long, warm embrace. Flower breathes out so deeply, it eases whatever is clenching a little bit in Sid’s own chest.

“Hey,” Murr starts, spoken softly into Flower’s floppy hair. “You said you…wanted to talk?” he glances up at Sid, as if to question who he’s supposed to be talking to, one or both of them.

“Uh-huh,” goes Flower, stepping back. “Sid and I discussed some things, and I wanted to run them by you.”

“Is it about the sex thing?”

“Kind of,” Sid hedges.

“But not really,” Flower corrects, stopping there and throwing a nervous glance at Sid.

Sid wonders what it is about Murr that’s making Sid need to let go of the handlebars and give Flower a push like he’s riding a bike by himself for the first time. He might never know. “I’m gonna go grab a water,” he says, careful not to make it sound too much like _I’ll give you two a moment._

Sid takes a few minutes doing nothing in the kitchen. He wipes off a few counters, starts the dishwasher running. He drinks no actual water. Then he makes his way back to Flower and Murr in the living room, stopping in the archway when he sees that they’re kissing. It’s odd seeing Flower tilt his head up to kiss someone, but he looks sweet. He’s taking the same level of care with Murr as he does with Sid, or as he did before he knew exactly how to push Sid’s limits.

He hopes they did some actual talking before this. He gets the sense that they did from the way Murr is holding Flower by the small of his back, steady and sure, like he knows he’s allowed to.

Sid clears his throat.

They break apart hesitantly, and suddenly Sid has two pairs of eyes on him. “Sorry if that was weird,” Murr says.

Sid can only shrug. “It’s about to get weirder, if you’re cool with it,” he offers.

“That’s not foreboding at all,” Murr states dryly.

Flower laughs, free and authentic. “About the sex thing. We thought maybe if you like what you’ve seen, you could give it a go yourself. With us, y’know?”

Murr sucks in a breath, and when he lets it out it sounds a lot like relief. “I know enough from watching you that I know I want to try. But I’ve never done it before.” He swallows visibly. “None of my girlfriends ever…”

“Had a dick?” Flower suggests.

“Yeah, or like, used a temporary one.”

“That’s alright,” Sid promises him. “I can…I can help you.” And with that declaration, Sid feels it begin to come together for him, his place in all of this. He remembers his first time with Flower, a whole decade ago. He’d been only a few years younger than Murr is now, and so tense it took a lot of switching positions and breathing deeply for Flower to be able to get more than a couple fingers in him. Flower’d been amazing, even as young and stupid as they were. But Sid could’ve used someone to make him feel better about it that knew from lived experience.

Murr nods haltingly, and then more confidently, and that’s all they really need.

Upstairs, it’s quick work to get Flower and Murr out of their clothes, and Sid sheds a few items too, but he doesn’t need to be naked to urge Murr onto his back, to get a pillow under his hips and under his head. “Lie back,” Sid directs him. “It can be easier to do it on your hands and knees, but it’s better like this.”

He hitches Murr’s thigh up with one hand, supports it there so Murr doesn’t have to. Sid didn’t realize touching someone like this could be so intimate without being expressly sexual. But being Murr’s guide in this is satisfying and important in ways that so eclipse the relevance of his own hard-on.

Flower is lubing up his fingers, settling down between Murr’s mile-long legs. He lays a kiss to the inside of Murr’s knee and drags a fingertip gently over the cleft of his ass before he asks, “Ready?”

Murr looks ready, if the way his stiff cock jumps is any indication. “Yeah, God.”

Sid moves in closer, holds him tighter. “You’ll barely feel the first one, it goes in real easy.”

And then he can see Flower’s wrist move forth, and Murr’s curling up his hips that crucial inch to adjust for him. “You’re right,” he says on an exhale. “I can tell…but it doesn’t hurt.”

“The next one will stretch a lot more,” Sid warns as Flower works his finger some more. “Breathe out when he pushes in, it creates some more give.”

“Can I go two now? D’you want it?” Flower asks, voice getting huskier by the minute.

“Yes, go,” urges Murr. Flower nudges a second finger past his rim, and a short sound leaks out of his mouth that could be the good or the bad kind, but after that Flower clearly hits upon his prostate because his hips come lurching off the bed and his moan is unmistakably good.

“Fuck, that’s,” Murr heaves out when Flower backs off a bit.

“I know,” Sid agrees, palming his own erection through the fabric of his underwear, just to relieve some of the pressure.

They work up to three fingers, and that takes another moment of adjustment before Murr starts to ask for more. Flower gets a condom on and pushes in painstakingly slow, running a hand up and down Murr’s leg, sifting blunt fingernails through the hair there. Sid murmurs low encouragements into Murr’s ear and wonders what he and Murr look like to Flower, who has one hand on Murr’s hip but the other on Sid’s thigh. He grips it lightly as if to say _I see you._

Flower moves into Murr like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing, but Sid recognizes the signs of how overcome he is: the little furrow between his eyebrows, the volume of his breaths. He dips down to kiss Murr a little bit and when he straightens up again he starts really putting his back into it, until Sid is getting rocked by the force of his hips even though he’s not the one taking it. Murr is taking it, and he’s doing so well, precocious in how he stays relaxed and responsive.

“I need—” is all Murr has to get out before Sid takes his cock in hand, head clear enough to stroke in time with Flower’s thrusts. He feels it stiffen impossibly more, and then Murr shoots off over Sid’s fist still working, and the way he must tighten up around Flower’s cock has him following close behind.

“You,” Flower says after he’s come, awed, hands running over Murr’s chest and arms as he pulls out. “And you,” he turns to Sid, bringing their foreheads together. Sid’s missed doing it with him after a win.

Flower ties off the condom and throws it out, then drops carefully down onto Sid and Murr below him. Recovery will take a long few moments. They stay there, the three of them, mending.

 

\---

 

There’s nothing like good sex to get Flower grateful, appreciative, and excited to show his love through the overperformance of domestic duties. Sid wakes up a couple hours later to a confusingly empty bed, considering he’d had two boys in it earlier. He yawns, stretches, adjusts his balls where they’re sitting awkwardly in his boxer briefs, and then he hears laughter in the distance, so he gets himself up. It’ll be cold down in the kitchen, so he dons his fuzzy bathrobe and slippers before he traipses downstairs.

When he gets there, he finds that Flower has emptied the dishwasher, cleaned the butcher block island, and is working on late-night eggs the way Sid likes them. Murr is looming over his shoulder and handing him seasonings as needed, looking all the gentle giant that he is. “D’you want the pepper?” Murr asks.

“No, Sid’s weird about black pepper.”

“Oh yeah, I guess now that you say it, he never lets them put pepper on his stuff at restaurants—”

“—when they come by with the shaker thing!” Flower snorts. “Dork. I swear, if he didn’t need a set diet for hockey he’d only ever eat plain steak, pasta, and cookies.”

“Please, I’ve seen you send something back because it had avocado in it, don’t pretend you’re adventurous.”

Flower swats at Murr with an oven mitt he’s not wearing. “You’re just a hipster or whatever, that’s the only reason you can stand that shit.”

“Or maybe you just have terrible taste,” Sid interrupts from behind them, aware of exactly how fond his expression will look when they turn around.

“Me?” Flower demands dramatically. He abandons the eggs to sidle into Sid’s personal space, and he plants a dumb kiss on Sid’s big nose that makes him let out an undignified giggle. “You! I’ll make you all the pasta you want for the rest of your life because you’re easy to cook for, but it’s not me who’s got terrible taste.” He glances behind him at Murr and then says, “Right now I’m two for two. Pretty good record.”

 _For the rest of his life._ Between the two of them, they’ve made countless declarations of love at this point, but it turns out that’s the only one Sid’s been holding out for. “That _is_ pretty good,” he says, allowing himself to burrow his face into Flower’s neck for only a moment. Then he steps away and goes to join Murr by the stove.

"I see the slippers are back," Murr comments, wry grin in place. Sid can't even muster the effort to pretend to be offended, or do anything but laugh with him. “Why are you glowing?” Murr teases, flipping eggs out onto a few plates and then leaning back against the counter. “You didn’t even get off.”

Sid can’t contain himself, chest bubbling over with some affection so new and so comfortable that he’s unable to name. “I didn’t need to, I just—” he can’t find words for the rest, just shrugs. “I just felt good.”

“You know, me too,” Murr answers. “Thanks for letting me hang around with your forever boy.” He gives Flower some eyes that Sid thinks he’s seen before, but less hidden this time.

Flower braces his elbows up on the butcher block, fitting his chin into his own palms. “I am, y’know,” he says, quiet, peeking up at Sid slyly from underneath his dusty eyelashes. “Yours forever.”

“I know,” Sid's able to say.

Murr smiles, and it’s not sad. It’s far from sad.

**Author's Note:**

> Can y’all believe Flower tops Sid AND Matt in this??? Weird because I don’t view him as particularly toppy but it just fit. Anywayyyy,
> 
> This ended up being twice as many feelings and half as much porn as I thought it would be. Classic. I hope the anon on kinkmeme I wrote it for still enjoys it regardless! [Here](http://www.post-gazette.com/sports/penguins/2017/08/10/matt-murray-marc-andre-fleury-relationship-penguins-goalie/stories/201708100052) is the article in which Matt actually says, "What does myself or Conor Sheary really have in common with a guy like Sid or Geno?" I misquoted because if I had quoted properly, this would've been like my third fic where I mention Conor Sheary even though he's not really in the fic. I'm thinking of making this a recurring theme regardless, just to make myself laugh.
> 
> Also, shameless plug: I’m in the market for a beta who wants to read like 20k of a WIP Sid/Claude fic I have going that really needs probably a few pairs of eyes on it, if anyone wants to come be my friend in that regard! You can hit me up on tumblr as [quickxotic](http://quickxotic.tumblr.com/).


End file.
